


End of the Road

by KnightApparent



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, a couple of Shoretroopers on Scarif, i'm sure this has been done before but this is my take on it, might write some more about these two who knows, nothing grgaphic just kind of a thing i felt like writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightApparent/pseuds/KnightApparent
Summary: The destruction of Scarif from the perspective of a Shoretrooper
Kudos: 3





	End of the Road

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't anything ambitious, just something I wrote because it was nagging at me, so I hope you enjoy it. May or may not write more about these two in the future.

With a sound that was more whimper than groan, TK-55507 regained consciousness. His entire body was one giant ache, the throbbing in his temples perfectly synchronized with the beating of his heart, the pulsing pain in his arms and legs. Blinking past the information rapidly cycling through his HUD, he could see that the sun was as bright and merciless as always, even through his darkened visor. Particles of sand, the most relentless enemy on Scarif until recently, grated between his clenched teeth, and a hiss of pain rushed out of him as he slowly sat up from his spread eagle position in the sand and looked around to take stock of his surroundings. 

His portion of the battle was finished. The bodies of dead and dying sentients, both rebel and trooper alike, were scattered everywhere. A medic was slowly checking the bodies, and even without being able to see their face through their bucket, TK-55507 could tell by the weary slump of their shoulders that there weren’t many survivors. Not too far from where he sat, the remnants of an X-Wing lay burning in the pristine water. He grunted, disgusted. What a wonderful way to start the day. 

The heavy sound of boots running in the sand caught his attention, and he twisted to face them, his hand going for his blaster, only to immediately relax. Even encased in battle scarred armor, even without a word spoken, he recognized that running gait, the tilt of the head as the other Shoretrooper skidded to a stop a respectful distance away. The distant panic that had been slowly twisting his insides since he’d seen the rebel transport blow up eased. 

“Captain. Glad to see you’re still in one piece, sir.” TK-67357 said, the hint of playfulness in her voice doing nothing to conceal the underlying relief. His lips, chapped and bloody behind his bucket, quirked up in a faint smile even as his eyes continued to scan her form for obvious injuries. 

“Likewise, Sergeant. Mind giving me a hand up?” He said, and when their gloved hands met as she reached down to help him up, the warm feeling in his chest expanded until he was so full of it he could hardly feel the scrapes and cuts littering his body. She was okay. He was okay. They’d lost too many good troopers, and there was more fighting ahead of them before the day was done, but for the moment, they were fine and together. 

Her hand still held securely in his, TK-55507 looked around quickly to make sure no one was within hearing range. Satisfied that they were alone and that everyone living had better things to do than watch them, he tilted his head and said, “Rage is going to be so jealous he wasn’t here to see this, Ayana.” 

She squeezed his hand and chuckled softly. The captain felt a warm flush of pleasure rush through him as her laugh filtered through his bucket comm. 

“He’s always rambling on about surprise attacks. I can already see the pout on his face when we holo him tonight. You can break the news, Luka.” She said, teasing, the use of his special name going through him like a physical shot. For as far back as he could remember, the only name he’d ever had was his call number.  He was an orphan of sorts, the last batch of Fett clones made on Kamino, their genes not tampered with to make them age rapidly, and he’d spent his entire life on that stormy planet, first under the Kaminiise and later under the baleful eyes of the Imperial trainers. All his life was dedication to the Empire, and he was fine with that. What was a name, really, when you were privileged to be the hands and feet of Lord Vader himself? 

But even being part of Vader’s Fist was nothing compared to the way hearing that name, a name picked just for him, from his two favorite people, the sound of it whispered in the hollow of his hip, the space between neck and collarbone. 

He squeezed her hand again and reluctantly dropped it, bending down to scoop up his rifle from where it lay partially buried in the sand. 

“If this day ever ends, I’ll be glad to rub it in his face. He still drags us over the coals for almost getting taken out by that baby jetii, you know. Come on, let-”

He broke off, his attention caught and held by something that should have been impossible. 

High in the atmosphere, the planetary shield, something he’d stared at on more boring patrols than he could count, was buckling under the pressure of the Imperial starship falling through it. The air around them reverberated as the shield gave way, the force of it shaking the ground beneath them. 

His comm exploded with chatter, frightened lieutenants and confused sergeants overwhelming the frequency. Beside him, Ayana was barking orders into her squad’s private frequency, and with a minute tilt of her bucket, she was sprinting down the beach to the rally point, him hot on her heels. 

“Luka,” she panted, both of them unable to tear their eyes away from the destroyed gate and wrecked ship, “what’s going to happen now?” 

He shook his head, pausing to issue orders to fall back to his lieutenants. “Ayana. Spark. I don’t know. All I know is that we have to defend the Citadel at all costs. I...what’s that?” 

They stumbled to a halt, eyes glued to the object looming behind the clouds, and there was a strange feeling of dread selling low in his stomach. 

“I dunno. Looks like a moon,” Ayana Spark said, confused, “but...there’s never been a moon there before. Has there?” 

“No,” Luka said, his keen eyes picking out the way energy seemed to be gathering in the center of the depression on the moon, “there hasn’t. Somehow, I don’t think we’re gonna get to holo Rage tonight, Sergeant.” 

She set her rifle down and pressed close to him. Their fingers intertwined as together they watched a beam of red energy shoot from the new moon and blast through the dish atop the Citadel. The ground rumbled beneath their feet.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she murmured, and the sound of her breath over the comm was calming in the face of the coming explosion. “Hope he takes the news okay. I know he always expected he’d be the first to go.”

“Yes,” he replied, feeling the wind, the heat, the sand turned to slag as the ground rose above them like a wave, “he was always the reckless one.” 


End file.
